Harry Potter and the Key of Serendipity
by FlyBuckbeakFly
Summary: Harry's sixth year brings several changes, good and bad. Coupleseventually: Harry and Hermione, Ron and Luna, Ginny and Neville.
1. An Unexpected Hand

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

_**Author's Note: I started this story before the sixth book came out, but was always a little shy on posting it anywhere, but once I finished the sixth book, I just had to get back to writing it. I have always been a Harry and Hermione fan, and I didn't take too well to the sixth book. Although it wasn't just because of the couples, I just didn't think it was that good. And as for everybody else who thinks I'm crazy for not going with the book, so be it.**_

_**My imaginative and creative self has gotten me this far in life and I'm not about to let it stop now. Harry and Hermione will forever be the only way to go.**_

_**P.S.: anyone wanna be my beta? **_

**Harry Potter and the Key of Serendipity**

**Chapter One- An Unexpected Hand**

_I haven't been back for a week and I've already been 'Harry Hunted.'_

It wasn't uncommon for Harry to be the subject of attack in the small suburbia of Little Whinging. Even though it was a well-known fact that for the past several years, Harry supposedly spent the majority of his time at St Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, fear of him seemed to have diminished.

The sound of the left side of his face coming in harsh contact with the brick wall resounded through his head. His glasses had slipped off the bridge of his nose, hitting the pavement and breaking into two.

Once he no longer heard the several pairs of fading footsteps he lifted his head out of his hands. _Great, just bloody great. How am I supposed to return safely back to the Dursleys' if I can't bloody well see where the hell I'm going._ Although, maybe it would be best not to return to the small suburban house, once Aunt Petunia saw him covered in blood she was sure to have a fit at the possibility of him getting her newly retiled kitchen floor dirty.

Harry had spent most of his time since returning from Hogwarts, nearly five days ago, up in his room. Harry had found the only way to keep his mind from replaying the horrible events that had occurred at the Department of Mysteries, was to do homework. So that's what he did, and to his surprise (and probably Hermione's) he was nearly finished.

So upon deciding to take a much-needed break before starting his dreaded Potions essay for Snape, Harry took a venture outside number four Privet Drive for the first time since returning to his so-called home.

And so now, here he was, being 'Harry Hunted'.

Once again hearing footsteps nearing his way, Harry dunked down and covered his head with his arms, desperately wanting to make himself as small as possible. It was times like this he wished he had his father's old invisibility cloak draped over him, invisible to the normal eye.

The single pair of feet came to a halt right in front of him. Carefully he lifted his head and looked up at the form towering above him. His eyesight was rather weak without glasses, but he didn't need them to recognize who it was. "What do you want? Come to finish the job your little goons started?"

"Get up, Potter." When Harry refused, he felt himself being yanked up by his cousin and cringed at the pain of Dudley's grasp around his left arm, which too, had been shoved into the brick wall.

"Let go of me or I'll hex you!" Harry yelled, knowingly full well that Dudley knew he wasn't aloud to use magic.

"Shove it, Potter. We both know you're not aloud to use magic."

After a profuse amount of struggle, Harry finally succumbed to the realization that he was not going to make his way out of Dudley's deadly grip. Within minutes he found himself being told to sit down in one of the chairs that surrounded the kitchen table.

"Can't you ever keep yourself out of trouble?" Aunt Petunia snapped at him, all the while continuing to clean the wound on the side of his face and moved onto cleaning the deep cut on his left arm.

"I was minding my own business, it's not my fault I seem to be the bloody target of several people these days!" Harry angrily retorted, but was somewhat taken back by the look he received from Aunt Petunia. Instead of looking even angrier, her features seemed to soften, as if she was worried.

Without making a comment, Aunt Petunia finished and sent Harry off to his room to clean himself up before Vernon came home.

Later on in the early evening, Harry sat at his desk, desperately trying to keep his mind on the matter at hand, his Potions essay Professor Snape had assigned on Acromantula Venom. He sighed and shoved his quill into the almost empty bottle of ink. As oddly as it might sound he couldn't seem to concentrate without Hermione hovering over him, correcting his mistakes or reminding him that he needed to get it done.

And as if that was the only thing on his mind. The look he had received from Aunt Petunia caught him off guard quite a bit. She never, _ever_ showed any kind of emotion toward her sister's orphaned son.

And then there was Sirius…

It was his fault.

No matter how many times he was told differently, it was his fault. He lost Sirius, the only father figure he had ever had. If he wouldn't have been so gullible and let Voldemort manipulate him, Sirius wouldn't have died. If he would have just tried harder at Occulemency, he could have blocked Voldemort from his mind and he would have never gone and dragged five other fellow Hogwarts students with him to the Department of Mysterious.

He almost lost Hermione, one of the few people in the world who knew him for him. She was the only constant in his life. She never got jealous of his so called 'fame' or for the fact that he had loads of galleons sitting in a bank vault just waiting to be used. She was his friend, his best friend, and he had almost lost her.

Hearing the sudden, constant tapping on his window, Harry gladly diverted his attention from his thoughts, to Hedwig, who eagerly awaited him to open up his window.

Once open, the snowy white owl swooped into the room and landed softly on the wooden desk. Untying the letter from Hedwig's leg, he found once again it was from Hermione. Harry had received at least a dozen letters alone, just from Hermione and had yet to reply to any.

He knew she just wanted him to talk about the events of fifth year, but he wasn't ready. As always though, Harry opened the letter, not intending to reply.

_Harry, _

_I really wish you would write back, I'm really starting to worry about you. You don't have to talk about 'things' if you're not ready to, but eventually you are going to have to._

_I'm going to continue to write and tell you about my summer even if you won't write me back._

_It's been less than a week and I'm almost half way done with my summer homework. You probably haven't even started yet. But please, please don't wait until the last minute, Harry! _

Harry couldn't help but let a small smile invade his features, for once; he was ahead of Hermione on summer homework. He couldn't help but wonder if she would be proud of him, or jealous. No, Hermione would be proud of him, she didn't get jealous over stupid things like that.

_I'm already missing you, Harry. I've been in contact with Professor Dumbledore, and he hasn't told me when you will be able to leave that dreaded place. I hope it will be soon! Ginny is coming over for the week and I am planning on showing her the 'muggle' ways of London. You know, shopping and other girl stuff. And did you know Luna Lovegood lives quite close to the Weasleys'? Apparently Ron isn't too happy._

No, Ron most definitely wouldn't be happy about living close to Luna Lovegood.

_Fudge just got fired (no surprise there), the ministry has already decided on someone to fill the spot. Although the public doesn't know who, yet._

_Anyway, my parents and I are going to pick Ginny up at the Burrow. So…I guess I'll talk to you soon?_

_Love, forever and always,_

_Hermione._

Harry was relieved upon finishing his letter from Hermione; she was going to stop pestering him, for now, anyway.

So Fudge was fired. Harry expected as much, since the truth finally came out about Voldemort's return, it was bound to happen at some point. A sudden thought struck him, had Percy returned home on his hands and knees, begging for his family's forgiveness? Or was he still acting like Fudge's bitch?

In Harry's opinion, Percy wasn't good enough to be a Weasley. He had betrayed and looked down upon his family after all they had done for him, after all they had done for the wizarding world. Percy didn't deserve parents like Arthur and Molly Weasley. And for Harry personally, it would take a lot more than a simple 'sorry.'

Harry opened his desk drawer and placed the piece of parchment in it, along with rest of the letters he head received (some opened, and some not).

By the time Harry's emerald eyes fluttered open the next day, it was well into the morning. After stretching a bit he sat up, swinging his legs to one side of the bed and put on his taped-repaired glasses.

He noticed the time and thought it strange that Uncle Vernon hadn't yelled at him to get up. He was never, ever aloud to sleep in. After a putting on a pair of overly baggy jeans and a short sleeve t-shirt where the sleeves ended well below his elbows, Harry slowly began his descent down the stairs.

He came to sudden stop at the landing and took in his appearance through the small mirror that hang on the wall. _Merlin_, he thought. _They certainly did a number on me._ The top left side of his face was covered with small cuts that were beginning to scab over and several bruises; one rather large bruise surrounded his left eye.

He looked underneath the bandage on his left arm and grimaced, it looked ten times worse than his face.

"Boy, don't take it off, I'd rather not have blood all over the floor!"

Harry jumped slightly at his Aunt Petunia, "sorry," he mumbled.

"There's some breakfast for you in the kitchen, it's probably cold by now. But that's what you get for waking up late." Harry nodded, and went for the kitchen when his aunt spoke again, "you can reheat it, but hurry up! We've got work to do today."

Harry frowned, _we?_ Since when did he get any help with his chores? Pushing through the swing door that led to the kitchen, he found the plate of pancakes and bacon sitting at the table.

Just as he finished his breakfast, he began to wash his dirty dishes when Aunt Petunia barged in.

"Leave it. Dudley's doing the dishes today, I've got plenty of other work for you to do."

Somberly, Harry sat the half clean plate into the sink and quietly followed his Aunt Petunia. All the while, thinking of several torturous scenarios in his mind of what kind of work she had in store for him today.

Harry sported a questionable look as they came to stop at the basement door. _The basement? He_ was never, ever aloud in the basement. It was more forbidden for Harry to try and make his way into the basement, than it was for him to say something in reference to magic. The door was locked at all times, and the only key Harry knew of was kept by Aunt Petunia.

He hadn't even noticed Aunt Petunia open the door and begin her descent down the old wooden staircase until she yelled up at him.

"Get yourself down here, boy! We've got lots of cleaning to do, it's sure to take all day."

Absentmindedly, Harry made his way down into the basement. He was quite shocked to the see that the small confines of the basement was piled with boxes, some which looked to have not been touched for years and cobwebs clustered in the ceiling corners.

Aunt Petunia was not the one to let dust and cobwebs build up. Then again, Harry's aunt also wasn't one to show a softer side toward him, something she did yesterday.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts when Aunt Petunia started to speak, once again. "You're uncle Vernon and I have decided to turn this into a little work out room for your cousin. We have no doubt he'll defend his title this year, but this way, he can practice more."

Harry nodded as she continued on, "we need to have this clean by tonight, Dudley's equipment is being delivered tomorrow morning." She motioned to the smallest pile, where several boxes were sitting. They looked as if they had been sitting there almost as long as he had been alive. "You start over there, most of it's rubbish. You're welcome to keep anything you want."

After Petunia finished she turned her back and started on a separate area of the basement.

Harry walked slowly over to his restricted area and opened up the first box he came to, he coughed as a cloud of dust came his way. The heavy box revealed several old books. Hermione would love this, even if they were just muggle books. But upon taking a closer look, Harry realized they weren't muggle books at all, they were spell books and old pieces of parchment.

The first thing that caught Harry's eye was a thick stack of bound parchment, seemingly resembling a homemade book of some sorts. He cleared off some of the dust and read the cover:

_107 Hilarious Ways to Hex your Worst Enemy and Get Away with it_ By, the Marauders.

Harry couldn't help but think how much Fred and George would love to have a go at some of the spells. He would definitely have to show them, after he read it, of course.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his Aunt Petunia's stare and hastily sat the heavy stack of parchment down and continued on through the boxes.

Harry continued on through the several boxes that happened to be full of books and other things his parents had left him. He had been so absorbed in his findings he didn't even realize lunch had passed and rest of the basement had been cleared out until he heard his aunt talking to him.

"I suppose you want all of that…that stuff?" Harry merely nodded. "Very well then, carry it all up to your room. And remember, you still have to mow the lawn."

As he watched the retreating form of his aunt, it finally hit him. She had kept this stuff for him! But why? "Aunt Petunia?"

She turned to him. He couldn't help but notice her normal thin-lined scowl had somewhat disappeared and was replaced with a somber frown. "Hurry up and take it up to your room, we don't want your Uncle Vernon seeing any of this."

"Aunt Petunia?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Petunia simply gave him a nod (if you could even call it that; it was more of a tiny twitch that caused her head to cast downward) and disappeared up the staircase.

Harry had never been so eager to read in his life (Hermione would definitely be proud). He had carried all the boxes up to his room, before running outside and mowing the lawn in what he thought for sure, was in record time.

Carefully, grabbing the thick stack of worn, bound parchment, Harry took a seat on his bed unmade bed that had several articles of clothing strewn about on it, and turned to the first page. He had to work hard to not laugh out loud at what he read:

_A special thanks to Snivellus, who was always right around the corner whenever we needed him._

For the next several hours, Harry read through the (hilarious) hexes and couldn't help but imagine trying each and every one of them out on Draco Malfoy once returning to Hogwarts when the new term started on September first. He was currently engrossed in hex number 33: _Jakas, making an ass out of yourself. _A hex, where you simply repeat the incantation, 'jakas' and the target takes the shape of a jackass, or donkey, when he marked his place and decided to call it a night.

He didn't even care his stomach was demanding some nourishment, he was too eager for it to be tomorrow so he could continue on through the several belongings that once used to be held in his parents' hands.

As he changed into his over-sized pajamas, Harry made a mental note, to tell Ron about hex number five, 'The Wicked Wedge'. Once Harry had finally settled into a comfortable position beneath his covers, a rather loud rapping came at his bedroom door.

"Er---uh, who is it?"

"Just get off your arse and open the bloody door, Potter!"

_Dudley? _Harry left his bed and opened the bedroom door revealing none other than his cousin, holding a plate full of what Harry suspected to have been the evening's dinner. "Er, um, Dudley?"

"Here." The boy reluctantly shoved the plate into Harry's unsuspecting hands, "mum asked me to bring you up some dinner."

"When you say 'asked' you mean 'told'?"

Annoyance flashed through Dudley's eyes, "either eat it, or I will." Dudley hesitated, as if wanting to ask Harry something, but in the end, deciding against it and turned toward his own room.

"Dudley?"

He turned, "what?"

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me, thank mum, it wasn't my idea."

Harry shook his head, "no. I mean thanks for earlier."

Dudley seemed taken back by Harry's politeness, but quickly recovered, "yeah, well nobody has the right to pound your bloody face in except for me."

Harry could've sworn he saw a small smile on Dudley's face, but immediately shook the possibility from his head and went to bed.

_11:59…_ "5, 4, 3, 2, 1." _12:00._

It was now officially the weekend.

Harry sighed and turned away from the clock that sat on his nightstand. While most kids anticipated Saturday and Sunday, and considered them the two best days of the week; Harry absolutely dreaded the weekend.

All it meant for him: two _whole_ days of Uncle Vernon. There was no 7:00 through 5:00 with just Aunt Petunia on his case; it was forty-eight hours of Vernon Dursley's constant badgering and ridicule.

It had been a week since Harry had 'helped' Aunt Petunia (nearly three since returning from Hogwarts…and Sirius' death) clean out the basement and he had spent most of his time going through the things. And He was down to one last box to go through, and he was excited yet disappointed for the discovery and learning of his parents' past.

He had received several more letters from his friends, namely Hermione (Ron seemed to have given up) and several members of the order, who were writing for their obligatory checkup on him.

He still had yet to respond.

With one last groan, Harry shoved his head under his only pillow and fell into an uneasy sleep, only to be woken up six hours later by the shrewd yells of his uncle.

"Boy, get up and carry my luggage down, now!"

Slightly confused, but awake, Harry forced his body into action and quickly dressed (not realizing they were the same clothes he wore yesterday). Within two minutes he had the three large pieces of luggage down the steps and sitting by the front door. But picked them up when once again, his Uncle yelled.

"Don't sit them there, take them out to the car!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry complied with his Uncle's orders and took them out to the car.

When he returned to the house and walked into the kitchen, all three Dursleys' were occupied in their normal seats and Harry took his seat in between Petunia and Vernon. He was quite surprised to see his plate full of food, but didn't bother to ask aloud.

After a few minutes of silence, Harry swallowed a mouthful of eggs and spoke the one thing that had been burning at his mind since waking up. "So where are you going, Uncle Vernon?" He tried to keep his voice as monotone as possible and show that he was the least bit excited about the prospect of going several days at number four Privet Drive without having to answer to Uncle Vernon.

"Business trip." He answered while his mouth was still full, his face started to turn slightly purple as he continued to glare at Harry, "I suspect you'll be gone when I return."

"That depends. When are you planning on returning?"

"Don't talk back to me, boy!"

"I was just asking a question!" Harry didn't care if he pissed Uncle Vernon off, knowing full well he would not have to take his wrath. Chances are he would probably be out of number four Privet Drive and wouldn't have to look at his ugly purple-boulder head until next summer.

"He'll be back August seventh. Now, I believe you have chores to be doing, so finish up quickly and get working." Aunt Petunia said to him as she refilled Vernon's plate with (what Harry suspected to be at least his fourth helping) bacon.

Rest of the meal went by in silence. Harry finished off his small portion of breakfast and left to began his long list of chores. Dudley and Petunia said their quick good-byes seeing as Uncle Vernon was running late (could it possibly be because he had a very long and_ big _breakfast?).

Harry had been working for at least an hour outside in the front yard, mending to the ill cared for flowerbeds when Aunt Petunia stomped out. "Get inside and clean yourself off."

Harry looked up, trying to block the glaring sun from invading his sight, "but I haven't finished yet."

"You'll finish tomorrow."

"But…"

"Just do what I tell you and hurry up!" she snapped at him before turning on her heal and walking back inside.

Harry reluctantly stood and brushed the dirt off of him before following his aunt into the house, where she continued on with her orders, "take a shower and put on some…" she did a quick up and down glance at Harry's attire, "clean clothes."

"Why?"

"I need to do some shopping and we both know I can't leave you alone." She seemed thoroughly disgusted at the thought of being seen in public with someone of his…'kind.'

As Harry walked through the crowds of people (several steps behind his Aunt Petunia, as she had ordered him to do), he felt this odd normalcy sensation. He looked as if he was just another muggle teen, who was enjoying his summer vacation. Nobody gawked and trembled at him, and their eyes never glanced at his forehead, looking for the well-known lightning bolt-shaped scar.

He was just…Harry. Harry James Potter, an almost sixteen-year-old boy who was finally starting to look his age and was in a desperate need of a haircut (although not too short, he preferred to keep his scar covered up).

Things seemed to get more peculiar for Harry as the day went on. Aunt Petunia was being…nice?

It started when he was patiently waiting next to Aunt Petunia as she caught up on the latest gossip with Miss. Bradley, owner of a very fancy and expensive bakery (which Harry suspected to be the place where Aunt Petunia always picked up food that she later claimed to have baked herself). She looked at him and commented on how much of a gentleman he was being.

"Quite a boy you've raised there, Petunia. Waiting patiently and not bothering a soul." Her gray eyes twinkled towards Harry.

Harry snapped his head in the women's direction before turning to Aunt Petunia. She was giving him a glare that for a second seemed to resemble Professor McGonagall. It wasn't quite a threatening glare, more of a 'watch what you say, Potter' type glare.

So Harry gave the woman the best smile he could muster up, "thank you, ma'am." He could've sworn the woman returned his words with a wink.

Aunt Petunia grabbed her bag of goods, "yes, I suppose he does have the proper manners of a gentleman. Well we really must be going."

And then that's when she made the comment about his hair. She said it was just a little too long and could do with a bit of a trim. Aunt Petunia had already ushered Harry out the door before he had a chance to reply and they went on their way.

This time instead of walking behind his aunt, Harry stayed in stride with her, "I really do need a haircut, Aunt Petunia."

"And what? You expect me to pay for it?"

"I'll pay you back."

"And you have money how?" She glanced in his direction but continued on to their next destination.

"Well I don't exactly have muggle money, but I can exchange some galleons when I go to Gringotts and I'll send Hedwig back with it."

"I'd rather not have that bloody bird flying around sending me stuff." She snapped at him, "I suppose you should get a haircut though, I wouldn't want your _friends _thinking you aren't being taken care of."

His almond shaped eyes became the size of small grapes, "really? Thank you, Aunt Petunia. Hermione was always badgering me about it last year, she evened tried to…" Harry stopped mid sentence, realizing the best way to ruin his day would to mention magic "…anyway, she should be happy when she sees I finally got it trimmed."

Petunia seemed taken back by Harry's words. Not only was he being polite, but also she had never seen his eyes light up while in her presence. "Yes, well it does grow awfully fast."

And the day continued on like that. While Aunt Petunia had stopped to pick up some new clothes for Dudley (surprisingly, his were becoming too big), she had gotten Harry a couple articles of clothing too. Something Harry still hadn't been able to wrap his mind around. Aunt Petunia was treating him, well, like a human, like someone she was related to and like it was her job to look after his welfare (it actually was, but that never motivated her in the past). And then to top it all off, she bought him a much needed new pair of glasses.

By the time Sunday afternoon had rolled around, Harry had completely finished his summer homework and was desperate to get his mind off of Sirius.

He headed downstairs, planning on asking his Aunt Petunia to give him some chores (having finished those for the day, too) when he ran into Dudley who was heading towards his new workout area in the basement.

"Er…sorry." Harry tried to move past his cousin, but found himself blocked. "Excuse me, Dudley." But Dudley stood firm.

"I've never noticed how bony you are."

Harry wasn't in the mood for his cousin's self-amusing antics. "Really? What did you think would happen to me if there was no food left on the table after you had finished stuffing your bloody face full?"

Dudley seemed to let comment roll off his back, "you could use some muscle."

"What are you getting at, Dudley?"

"We should work out together. My trainer says it's better to work in partners and well, maybe when I'm not around to save your puny arse, you'll be able to watch your own back."

Harry's eyes narrowed, "why are you being nice to me?"

"You're my cousin, why shouldn't I?"

"Bollocks! You want something in return, am I right?" Dudley shrugged his shoulders and avoided eye contact with Harry. "Spit it out, Dudley."

"Well, here's the thing…I have to take summer school, I kind of failed some classes and…"

"You want me to tutor you?"

"Yes."

Harry mentally weighed his options, if he did this, he could certainly use it to his advantage. "Ok, I will." He stuck out his hand and Dudley enthusiastically shook it (practically breaking Harry's fingers in the process).


	2. A Bittersweet Sixteen

**Harry Potter and the Key of Serendipity**

**Chapter Two- A Bittersweet Sixteen**

Harry pounded his bloody fists into the punching bag that was being stabilized by his cousin.

It had been a month since the two boys shook hands on their deal, and so far things were going good. Dudley's grades had improved from Harry's' tutoring and Aunt Petunia was rather impressed at both boys.

There was a noticeable change in Harry's form. He was actually starting to look like a boy who was nearing his sixteenth birthday. He was nearly six feet tall (probably still shorter than the ever sprouting Ron), but instead of being the bony and scrawny 'boy-who-lived', he was the tall, well toned 'boy-who-lived'.

Harry had even noticed a six-pack forming while studying his (shirtless) figure.

Harry staggered over to the corner of the basement and slumped his body down the wall.

Dudley shook his head and took a seat next to his cousin, "you sure have a lot of anger, Potter."

"Yeah---well the world has screwed me over a few times. You would to if you were destined to be the boy…" Harry stopped mid-sentence, realizing he was about to reveal the prophecy made about him, and to none other than Dudley!

"The boy who what? Does this have to do with that guy you were yelling one night in your sleep…Sirius?"

"He is--was my godfather, he died because of me, just like Cedric and my mum...they all died because of me." Harry slowly told the events of his years at Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry, including the Prophecy, something he had yet to tell Hermione or Ron.

Dudley eyed his cousin. The boy he had come to fear was…well was just a boy. A boy who had lost so much, and stood to lose so much more if he didn't kill. "But you didn't kill them, that Lord Voldawart, or whatever his name is, did."

"Voldemort, killed them _because_ of me! Why can't anybody see that!"

Dudley shook his head, not at all phased up Harry's outburst. "And I thought you were the smart one. He killed them for power, Potter. Anybody can see that. If he kills you, the one that he marked as his 'equal' there will be nobody else that will be considered a threat to him. It's up to you, Potter. Let that bloody bastard get what he deserves."

"But I have to become a _murderer."_

"He killed your mum and dad! When you kill him, you won't be a murderer, you'll be a hero…well at least to all those people of your…kind. I mean, come on, you did that thing to those thingies last summer…"

Harry let out a small chuckle; killing Voldemort was going to be a lot harder than performing a simple Patronus Charm. He was already a hero to wizards and witches around the world, he was the 'boy who lived'.

Oddly enough, though, Dudley's words seemed to help Harry deal with the prophecy that was marked for him. It came from someone who knew him as a boy and not a young, powerful, famous wizard.

And even though, Harry was already a so-called hero, it was up to him. Not Dumbledore, and not anybody from the Order of Phoenix, and no matter how much it scared Harry, he knew for once, Dudley was right.

He had to do this, or otherwise in Dudley (and Ron's words), the world was doomed.

Feeling a new since of…not exactly pride, but something like it, Harry wrote to his two best friends for the first time all summer. He started with Ron's knowing it would be easier.

_Ron,_

_I'm sorry I haven't replied back to your letters. I just needed time to be left alone and sift through my thoughts. Sirius' death was hard on me, and I know it was hard on several other people, but that wasn't the only thing on my mind._

_The events from the night of the department of mysteries keep on replaying in my mind. I could've gotten you and Ginny killed, I'm sure your mum isn't too happy with me, which is completely understandable._

_I haven't forgiven myself yet, so how can I expect other people to?_

_Again, Ron, I'm really sorry._

_Harry_

Setting the piece of parchment to the side, he began Hermione's.

_Hermione,_

_I'm sorry._

Harry had so much to say, but couldn't find the words to write it out in a letter, it would be easier to tell her in person.

_Thank you, for always being a good friend._

After sending Hedwig off with the two letters, Harry went to sleep, and for the first time in months, it was a peaceful, dreamless slumber.

Harry had been woken up bright and early by several different owls zooming over his head and dropping parcels on his bed. Once releasing his body from the tangled form of his sheet, Harry rushed to the window and opened it before the owls woke up Aunt Petunia. At least Uncle Vernon wasn't home to yell at him.

The only ones that stayed behind were Pig and a brown owl that he suspected to be the one that Hermione borrowed (she had yet to get an owl of her own).

Hedwig must have not made it to his friends before they sent out his gifts.

One by one, Harry sifted through his presents. He wasn't at all surprised to see a package from Neville Longbottom. (Harry had found a book that once belonged to his parents, which focused heavily on herbology, and knowing it to be Neville's specialty, he sent it to Neville for his birthday). Although, he was a little stunned to see packages and letters from Oliver Wood (former keeper and captain of Gryffindor's quidditch team), Dean Thomas, and several other of Harry's acquaintances from Hogwarts, that although they were on good terms, weren't necessarily friends.

Harry, not remembering having so many presents in his life, savored the moment (unlike Ron, who, no matter the amount would have them all open in sixty seconds or less). From, Oliver, he had received a years subscription to the popular quidditch magazine, 'sweeping the air' and several tickets to Puddlemore United games (one which happened to be against the Chudley Cannons). Dean Thomas, sent Harry a t-shirt with the West Ham logo ('your clothes look to be at least two times your size') and Neville sent him a wand holder, which was charmed so only the owner could pull out the wand (Neville's gran had bought him one along with a new wand).

Harry moved on to the stack of presents from several members of the Weasley family. Ron, with the usual, several dozen chocolate frogs (ever since their first meeting on the Hogwarts express Harry had taken up his own collection of chocolate frog cards and always seemed to find one he needed from a frog that was given to him by Ron). Fred and George had sent him a variety pack of several joke items (some yet to be sold to the public, sighting safety reasons). Mr. Weasley sent Harry a muggle product, which was a case to hold his glasses in; Mrs. Weasley sent him a basket of cauldron cakes and from Ginny, Harry received the revised edition of _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

Harry had piled all the unopened letters into a small stack on his desk, he would get to them later.

Noticeably absent from his pile of gifts however, was one from Hermione. At this, Harry's heart sunk. Knowing Hermione though, she probably had a good reason. And indeed she did. Harry had untied the letter that was addressed to him from Hermione.

_Happy Birthday, Harry!_

_I'm hoping you will at least respond to this letter. I would've been over there by now, but according to Miss. Figg you're still alive and Professor Dumbledore insists you will talk when you are ready._

_So how does it feel to be sixteen?_

_You're probably wondering where your present is. Well, it's just too big to send with an owl, but I promise it will be well worth the wait (I hope). Hopefully I will be able to give it to you soon. Professor Dumbledore has yet to say when you will be returning to Headquarters. I know you were planning on returning to the Burrow, but he insists that headquarters is much safer._

_Well, I can't wait to see(and talk) to you, Harry!_

_Happy Birthday!_

_Love, forever and always, _

_Hermione_

Harry's mind was running with gifts that would be too big to send by owl post. Usually Hermione just stuck with books. Then a sudden thought struck him; maybe the book was _too_ big to be sent by owl!

Harry shook the thought from his mind and took a quick shower before changing into a pair of new pants and his West Ham t-shirt. He decided to get breakfast started and began his trek downstairs.

Although he didn't get very far, not even out of the threshold of his door.

Opening his bedroom door, Harry came face to face with Dudley. "morning, Dud."

"Hey, potter." He shoved what looked like a card collecting binder into Harry's hands, "sorry I didn't have time to wrap it. but those cards you collect, you can have something to put them in."

Harry smiled genuinely, "thanks."

This summer had certainly been the summer of change. He and Dudley had become…well had become to actually acting like what they were: Cousins. And Aunt Petunia, well Harry was still somewhat confused by Aunt Petunia's behavior. One minute she was treating him like her nephew, the next, as if he was still the scrawny little boy who lived beneath the stairs. It was like she was fighting with her own demons and couldn't find a common ground on what to do with him.

And then, later on in the day, Harry understood.

It was almost noon, and Dudley was still off at summer school, so it was just Harry and his aunt. He was starting down the steps to make himself some lunch, but came to a sudden halt when he heard voices, one of them was clearly Aunt Petunia, she sounded upset, and angry.

The other, well Harry couldn't quite figure it out. The deep, calm voice sound very familiar, but Harry couldn't seem to place it with a face.

"Petunia, you must come to terms that he's not Lily."

"But he's her son! How am I supposed to look into the those eyes everyday and not see my sister? Or not feel angry at her for winning the love of our parents?"

"Petunia, you have every right to be angry. But you've taken it out on Harry way too long. He doesn't deserve to be treated the way you were treated as a young girl. It's not his fault."

"I know."

Aunt Petunia moved from the fireplace and Harry had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from letting a gasp escape. _Dumbledore was talking to Aunt Petunia through the fire? _

"Now let's get on with the reason you wished to talk to me. You say Harry is coming to terms?"

Aunt Petunia nodded, "yes. He and Dudley have started to accept each other and Dudley, in some way or another is helping Harry come to terms with…everything."

"And I suppose you are starting to do the same? You did give him his parents' belongings, am I correct?" Aunt Petunia once again, nodded, but stayed quiet. "well then, make sure Harry is ready by eight o'clock this evening." And with that said, Albus Dumbledore pulled his head from the green flames.

Harry didn't give his aunt a chance to tell him to pack; he was already up the stairs and shoving his belongings into his trunk when Aunt Petunia entered.

Petunia let herself in and glared at Harry, "I suppose you were listening in on my conversation with your Professor?"

Harry thought carefully about how to respond to her question, "I came down to get some lunch when I saw Professor Dumbledore's head in the fire telling you I needed to be ready by eight."

She watched Harry suspiciously, "is that all you heard?"

"Yeah. Is there something else I should know?"

"No. Nothing at all."

Harry nodded and his aunt left him alone to finish packing up his belongings. As the minutes went on, Harry continued on packing but soon discovered not everything would fit into his trunk (something Harry never thought would happen).

But once again, Dudley came to his rescue.

After coming home from what Dudley said was a rather easy day at summer school, he learned from Petunia that Harry would be leaving after dinner. Immediately, noticing Harry's troubles, Dudley handed Harry a rather new looking duffle bag to stuff the rest of his belongings in (mainly clothes).

So for the now sixteen-year-old Harry Potter, the next several hours dragged on rather slowly. By the time seven o'clock rolled around, Harry had just finish taking a shower and dressing into some of his new clothes. He chose a new green t-shirt (for which he could hear Mrs. Weasley commenting how it brought out his emerald eyes) and a clean pair of jeans. He even tried to comb his hair flat, but to no avail, it stuck up the same as always.

Harry came down to the kitchen to find Aunt Petunia dressed in some of her finest clothes, and to his surprise, so was Dudley. Aunt Petunia had made a seemingly large dinner and the two Dursleys' were sitting at the table (food untouched), waiting for his arrival.

"You didn't have to wait on me."

"Well you're here now, so take a seat and dig in." Right after the words left Petunia's mouth, Dudley had gone straight for the chicken. Harry shook his head, Dudley may have turned some of his fat into muscle, as a result of boxing; but he still liked to eat.

The next sixty minutes ticked on and Harry, along with his aunt and cousin sat in the living room, anxiously waiting. No one knew for sure how Harry was being picked up. But they were about to find out as the clock stroked eight.

For a brief second, the house was dead quiet, and then they heard it; the doorbell.

Petunia nearly jumped out of her skin, but quickly recomposed herself and went to answer the door, with Harry just a few steps behind her.

"Harry!" the door had been pulled open and before he could comprehend what was happening, a pair of arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a tight, yet warm embrace. "Oh Harry! You don't know how happy I am to see you!"

By now, Hermione had pulled back enough to look Harry in the face. Tears were threatening to stream down her flushed cheeks. "I was so worried about you! And then when I got your last letter, oh I was so happy! And then when Professor Dumbledore told us that today was the day you were being picked up, eight o'clock just didn't come soon enough! And Hedwig, I was so happy to see her; she's at the burrow at the moment and should be arriving with the Weasleys'. And--"

"Hermione?" Harry stifled a laugh at his best friend; sometimes she could just go on and on. "I'm really glad to see you, too."

Her cinnamon orbs watered once again, as her face turned crimson. "I was rambling, wasn't I?"

Harry nodded, "but it's ok. We have a lot of catching up to do." Harry released himself from Hermione's arms and turned at the four other occupants in the room, "this is my cousin, Dudley and my Aunt Petunia."

At the sound of his name, Dudley snapped out of his reverie to find his mouth hanging open. Shutting it, he gave Hermione a smile. "Hi."

The awkward silence continued on until Mr. Granger, cleared his throat, "well, we're on a tight schedule, so we really must be going." he pointed to the trunk, "this yours, Harry?" Harry nodded, and Hermione's father took it to the car.

Mrs. Granger smiled warmly at Harry, "why don't you say your good-byes, dear."

Harry nodded and turned to his aunt, it was quite an uncomfortable moment, "er—uh, I guess I'll see you next summer. Good-bye."

"Yes, I suppose we will see you then, stay out of trouble."

Hermione raised a brow at this, but Harry didn't seem phased. "I'll try, but we both know how trouble seems to find me."

He turned to his cousin, "thanks again for…everything, Dud."

Dudley nodded, "Just make sure you give that Voldy-git what he deserves."

Harry's trademark, crooked smile invaded his features, "I definitely will, Dudley. Who knows, I might even try out the triple pounder on him."

After several lingering seconds, Harry grabbed his duffle bag and followed the Grangers' to their car parked out front. The ride had been silent for several minutes, until Hermione finally huffed and turned to him, "so are you going to explain to me what that was about?"

Harry shrugged, "we just…came to an understanding."

"I'll say! They were actually treating you human!"

"That's quite and understatement, Hermione…" Harry filled her in on the events of his summer. Everything from being 'Harry hunted,' to getting new clothes and working out with Dudley.

"I thought your hair looked shorter. It looks good, not too short, but yet not too long." She smiled, and tugged slightly at the short sleeve of his t-shirt, "the green matches your eyes."

"Er—thanks." Harry felt the red creep into his cheeks at Hermione's words and turned to look out the window. "So umm…we're going to Headquarters, right?"

Hermione nodded, "yes. But just you and me." She picked up a pair of old sunglasses that were sitting between the two. "Professor Dumbledore gave us this portkey, it's set for eight thirty-six. We'll be transported to Headquarters, where Tonks and Professor Lupin are waiting for us. My parents will return home with your luggage and they will meet professor Dumbledore through Floo Powder and they will hand him your luggage."

Harry nodded, taking in the plan, "can muggles go through Floo?"

"Only if it's set up by the ministry…and Mr. Weasley, pulled a few strings, so to speak."

Mr. Granger turned into an abandoned alley, put the car into park. "Well, it's almost time." He turned to face Harry, "I don't think we've been formally introduced, Harry. I'm Simon Granger, and this is Helen Granger."

Harry shook both of their hands, "it's nice to meet you. Hermione talks about you guys' all the time."

"Likewise, Harry. She's always rambling on about her _best_ friend, Harry Potter." Simon winked at Harry, causing Hermione to once again, blush.

"Look at the time, we've got two minutes, best be saying good-bye."

After the quick (and tearful, for the two Granger girls) good-byes to Hermione's parents, the two each grasped an end of the glasses and held on for dear life. Once nine-thirty came, Harry felt the familiar pull around his naval and within seconds, he soon found himself in the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, being toppled down by Hermione.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!" Hermione pulled herself off of Harry.

"It's ok, I'm not hurt." Harry stood and took a look around the place that once belonged to his godfather, and more than likely, was no his. The last time he had been here, was at Christmas, his last Christmas with Sirius. He snapped out of his thoughts, when he felt her hand softly touch his arm.

"You ok, Harry?" Hermione's eyes were warm and cautious.

"Yeah, I'm fine. The place just brings back memories."

"Good memories, I hope."

Harry nodded somberly, and soon found himself smiling, "yeah, definitely good memories."

"There you two are! I wasn't sure where you guys' would arrive. You'd be surprised at how big this house is." Tonks waltzed into the kitchen, nearly tripping over one of the wooden chairs in the process, "wotcher, Harry."

"Hey, Tonks."

"Professor Dumbledore is waiting in the drawing room, he wishes to speak with the two of you." Harry and Hermione turned, and gave each other the same questionable look, before Tonks practically shoved them out of the kitchen basement. "Go on you two, he doesn't have all day, he's a very busy wizard, you know."

"That's an understatement," muttered Harry to Hermione as they started on the their way up the stairs to meet with Professor Dumbledore.

"What do you think he wants to talk to us about?" Hermione questioned.

"I don't know," he lied. Harry feared it had something to do with the Prophecy that was revealed to him at the end of last term.

The rest of the walk was silent, until the two teens stopped outside the double doors that led into the drawing room. Both seeming to have the same question in mind: do they knock?

But before the thought could be contemplated very long, the doors swung open, revealing Professor Snape. His black eyes bore into Harry, "Potter," he sneered.

"Professor Snape." Harry returned, with just as much hate.

"I suppose you're quite impressed with yourself for finding a way to cheat on your O.W.L.s? You better be ready to show your abilities come September, you certainly won't be able to cheat off Miss. Granger anymore." With one last glare in Harry's direction, Snape stalked off, his black cloak sweeping the floor behind him.

Hermione gasped, "Harry! You're going to have N.E.W.T level potions, you know what this means?"

"Yeah, two more years of Snape."

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry. And it means Professor Dumbledore must have our O.W.L.s! And you got an O in Potions, but oh no!"

"What?"

"Harry! I didn't get an O in Potions! I won't be able to take N.E.W.T level potions! I've failed, Harry! My whole future, it's over!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. If I got an 'O', you most definitely did too."

Before anything else could be said between them, Professor Dumbledore spoke, "ah, Miss Granger, Harry, it's good to see you again. I hope you've had a well deserved break?"

"Yes, Pro—Professor." Hermione's voice cracked at the fear of getting anything but an 'O' in potions.

"And you, Harry?"

"Just fine, sir." He refused to look the older man directly in eyes.

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled over his half-mooned spectacles, "please come in, come in." Harry and Hermione obliged and followed Professor Dumbledore into the much cleaner (Dark Magic free) drawing room. The two exchanged another questionable look before taking seats next to each other, across from the desk Professor Dumbledore now resided in. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked to speak with the two of you." The two nodded, "well, first I must start off by saying, Miss. Granger, you received an O in potions."

Hermione gasped, "but Professor Snape said--"

"Never doubt your abilities, Hermione."

"You called me, Hermione…you've never done that."

"Would you prefer I associate with you by Miss. Granger?"

Hermione shook her head, "No. Not at all, I'd much rather prefer Hermione."

"Hermione it is, then." Dumbledore turned his attention, partially to Harry, "I suppose you two would like to see the rest of your O.W.L.S?"

Hermione nodded feverishly, but Harry didn't quite reach his friend's enthusiasm. The only one he was really confident in, was Defense of the Dark Arts (no thanks to Umbridge), and even though he seemed to have lucked out in Potions, there was still Divination, History of Magic and Astronomy (to name a few). What if he didn't get O.W.L.s in all the right classes? His dream of becoming an Auror would be ruined.

"Harry?"

Harry had been so absorbed in his own worries, he didn't realize Professor Dumbledore had handed Hermione her letter and was trying to do the same to him. "Oh, sorry, Professor." Slowly, he retrieved his letter. He fingers lingered on the seal, as if trying to delay the inevitable. Pulling out the rather long piece of parchment, Harry eye's wandered to the total box.

"Well, what'd you get, Harry?"

"I got ten!" he couldn't believe it, "Hermione, I got ten O.W.L.s!"

"That's terrific, Harry!" Hermione was genuinely pleased for her friend's achievement, "I knew you could do it."

"How many did you get?"

And that's when Hermione's smile grew, "I got an O.W.L. in every class, twelve."

"That's fantastic, Hermione! Seems Snape got you worked up for no reason."

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry. But yes, I suppose I was indeed, wrong."

"Yes, indeed, I am very proud of the two of you. As you will notice, some of your classes have already been arranged and the others are your choice," spoke Dumbledore. "You will of course need to fill them out and return them by the seventh. And now onto other things in need of discussion. This year their will be several changes and such going on at Hogwarts, I can't go into details, for that you will of course have to pay attention to my speech during the beginning of year feast. But I will say this, Harry and Hermione: In the words of Moody, 'constant vigilance!' but in the words of muggles, 'keep an open head!'"

Hermione stifled a laugh, "sir, I think you mean, 'keep and open mind'?"

"Ah yes, I think you're right, Hermione. Keep an open mind." He turned his attention to Harry, but still speaking to the young witch. "Now if you wouldn't mind, I would like to have a word with Harry."

Hermione caught Harry's gaze, and gave him a soft, worried, smile. He returned her smile, letting her know he was ok. "Of course not, I'll just be unpacking my belongings."

Professor Dumbledore waited until he was sure Hermione was down at the other end of the long hallway, entering and closing the door she shared with Ginny. "So how have you really been, Harry?"

"I'm sure you know all about my summer." The animosity Harry had felt towards his Professor at the end of last term was once again resurfacing.

"Ah yes, I suppose you found out about my meetings with your Aunt?" Harry nodded, his gaze now fixated on his O.W.L. results the he clutched in his hand. "She said you had started to get along with your cousin, what's his name, Dudley?"

"I told him the prophecy. I told him I had to kill Voldemort. He's been training me in boxing. I know it can't just physically beat Voldemort to death, but he knows absolutely nothing about muggle fighting, I could indeed use it to my advantage."

Dumbledore nodded, a little surprised, but pleased with Harry's words. "You seem to be coming to terms with the prophecy. I'm certainly pleased with you, Harry." Leaning in closer, Dumbledore bored his eyes into Harry's, forcing the boy to return his gaze. "And Sirius?"

Harry shrugged, "he's gone. Nothing I can do about it." after a long silence, Harry spoke once more; his voice was hoarse with emotion. "It still hurts, but I have to be strong, for _everyone_."

"It's ok to grieve, Harry."

"I have grieved, but I need to think of the future. It's just like what Dudley said, I'm the only wizard he considers a threat. Everybody learns from their mistakes. I made a mistake of letting Voldemort manipulate me, and look how I learned: my godfather was killed. Now it's time for Voldemort to learn from his mistakes."

After his talk with Professor Dumbledore, Harry went straight up to the room he had shared with Ron several times before. He found himself wanting to be alone for a while and was thankful to find Tonks had already placed his trunk and the small duffle bag Dudley had let him use, there.

Going for his trunk, he pulled out his thick stack of chocolate frog cards and the binder he had received from Dudley. Knocking his pillows carelessly onto the floor, he took a seat at the front of his bed and began to sort through the many cards; placing them alphabetically into the card sleeves.

Harry had been at work for only a few short minutes until he heard a soft knock at his door, "Harry?"

Hermione.

She opened the door cautiously, and peeked her head around it, "can I come in?" Harry nodded, returning back to his cards. "Is everything ok?"

"No. But it will be." He sighed and looked up, "I'm really sorry, Hermione. I acted as though I was the only one who lost someone."

"He was your godfather, Harry. You had every right to be upset, angry and bitter. I was afraid for you, though. When you didn't return my letters. I knew the Dursleys' hadn't done anything to you, but that didn't ease my fear. You can do more harm to yourself than anybody else can." Hermione was trying her best to hold back the tears that were on the verge of freeing themselves.

Harry noticed this, and felt even worse, "I'm sorry, Hermione. Please don't cry."

She shook her head, "I'm just so happy that you're talking to me again. Please, please, don't shut me out again, no matter what."

Harry nodded and showed his trademark, crooked smile, "I won't, I promise."

Hermione returned his smile with one of her own, "Good." Her eyes narrowed, and she grew serious, "because if you ever stop talking to me like that again, I'll hex you all the way into next year."

Harry sat up straighter and saluted her, "yes, Ma'am."

"Harry, stop!" a light blush creeped into her cheeks. "Birthday present?" she asked, pointing at the binder halfway full of cards.

"Yeah, Dudley gave me the binder and Ron gave me the two dozen chocolate frogs." Harry shut the binder and scooped up the cards he had yet to add to it, deciding on finishing it later. "Speaking of presents, I believe you owe me one."

"Oh, yes I do! But uh, I cant' exactly give it to you yet, Harry."

Harry thought better of himself before asking questions, "oh, Ok. I still have more to open anyway."

"Well what are you waiting for, Harry?"

So for the next thirty minutes, Hermione sat next to Harry on the carpet worn floor as he opened the rest of his gifts. From Hagrid, he received Quidditch gloves made out of dragon hide; they were charmed to fit perfectly and comfortably on the hands of the first person to where them. He had received two very worn, books on defense against the dark arts from Lupin (which Hermione seemed more excited about, than Harry). And last but not least, Professor Dumbledore, it was just a simple letter, and he had told Hermione he would open it later along with the rest of his letters, Hermione insisted on opening it now.

"It could be important, Harry."

So as always, Harry gave into Hermione's persistence and opened the letter:

_Harry,_

_First off, I must wish you a Happy Birthday!_

_And second, I must apologize, once again. _

_I can't go back and change things, but I can try to make them better. What you're about to read is something you should have been reading this time last year._

Harry pulled out the second piece of parchment that was enclosed in the envelope and read it a loud to Hermione.

_I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, hereby invite you, Harry James Potter, to make your presence known at the next Order of Phoenix meeting. You are one of several people to be asked to join the Order. Please make your presence known on the night of August 3 at Headquarters of the Order._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,_

_Founder and Secret Keeper of the Order of Phoenix_

Hermione gasped once finishing the letter, "Harry! You've been invited to join the Order of Phoenix!"

"Looks like it. Hey, check your stuff, he wrote 'several people', maybe you're one of them!"

"Oh, Harry, I don't think Professor Dumbledore would allow me to join the Order."

"Well we should at least check!" and the next thing Hermione knew, Harry had grasped onto her right hand and pulled her out of his room and down a flight of steps, not slowing down a bit until they were inside Hermione's room. "Where are your O.W.L. results?"

Hermione went to her bed and picked up the opened envelope, "Honestly, Harry, I would have noticed it before…" she stopped mid-sentence, pulling out a small piece of parchment that she hadn't noticed before. Her cinnamon brown eyes seemed to enlarged with each word as she scanned the letter, "Professor Dumbledore wants me to join, too!"

Harry felt a sudden sense of relief wash over him, "that fantastic! I wonder if Ron got one, too?" At his words, Hermione's smile faltered, "what?"

"Well it's just…well we both know how Mrs. Weasley can be."

"Yeah, you've got a point there." Harry sighed heavily, "Ron's going to be really jealous, again. Maybe I can convince Mrs. Weasley to let him become a member, I mean…it's not like he hasn't faced any danger before."

By the time Harry had made it to bed, it was well into the wee hours of the morning, nearly four. After Harry had learned that they were both becoming members of the Order, he had bade goodnight to Hermione and left her room, all intentions of going to bed himself.

But those intentions were immediately tossed to the back of his mind as he heard the familiar voice of his best friend. "Harry!"

Ron came bounding up the steps, several at a time. "Ron!" not caring of the fact that they were both sixteen-year-old boys, the two met in a hug. "Ron! I thought you weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow!"

"Excuse me." The two turned to the equally red headed girl standing behind Ron. Her arms were crossed in a reserved manner, and she was scowling pointedly at Harry, "where's my greeting."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Harry embraced the girl, who (over the years) he had come to think of as his little sister, into a welcoming hug. "It's good to see you again, Ginny."

"Likewise, Harry." Ginny smirked, eyeing the closed door behind him, "so what was it you were doing in Hermione's room?" Harry's face flourished into the color of Ron's hair, "you guys were alone, am I right?"

"We—well yeah, but we were just talking, nothing was going on."

"Well, I suppose there is only one way to find out. Now if you boys will excuse me, Hermione and I have a lot to catch up on." Ginny disappeared through the door, leaving the two boys alone.

Harry turned back to Ron, who was eyeing him suspiciously, "so, what were you and Hermione doing in there, alone?"

Harry held back the urge to roll his eyes; he expected it from Ginny, but _Ron?_ "We were just talking."

"About what?"

"O.W.Ls." Harry smiled inside, pleased with his answer.

Ron's demeanor faltered, he did _not_ want to talk about O.W.L. results. "Oh."

"So what'd you get?"

"Eight." Mumbled Ron.

Harry nodded sympathetically; Ron could no longer become an auror. "That's not too bad. Look on the bright side, you're finished with Snape."

"Yeah, but mum was hoping I would do better. So what'd you get?"

"Ten."

The boys had found themselves continuing on their conversation, while making their way to their room on the second floor; right below the room shared by the girls. Harry pushed open the door and Ron followed him in.

"You get good presents?" Ron knew Harry would receive better gifts than his oh-so predictable pack of Chocolate Frogs.

And Harry knew this. "Yeah! I finally got Xavier Quigley's card!"

"Aw, mate! I've been trying to get my hands on that card for ages!"

"Did you know they're coming out with five new cards?"

"Yeah. Professor McGonagall is one of them, but as for the other four; no idea."

"Well, I don't care who they are, as long as I'm not one of them."


	3. Pandemonium, Part One

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And S.K, thanks for telling me about the mistake, I have corrected it to 8:36. Well, here is the next chapter; it's more of a filler, just tying up some loose ends here and there.

**Disclaimer: own nothing, all belongs to JKR.**

**Harry Potter and the Key of Serendipity**

Chapter Three: Pandemonium 

Pandemonium.

That's what it was.

Was it really possible for so much to happen in a span of three days?

Apparently so.

Harry sat silently at the kitchen table, continuously dipping the end of his quill into the ink. His eyes were fixated on the parchment in front of him: his class choices for year six. Some had already been predetermined for him as a result of his O.W.L.s, but he still needed at least three more classes, it was the first of August, and Harry was to have his class choices done and sent to Professor Dumbledore by the third. With Hermione's constant persistence, he and Ron gave in, deciding they should get it over with. He was taking N.E.W.T level Transfigurations, Potions, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He checked another box for Care of Magical Creatures, more for Hagrid than for himself. And another one for Herbology, it wasn't his best subject, but he did receive an E on his O.W.Ls in the class.

_Seven down and one to go._

He was for sure not taking Divination again; he didn't need Professor Trelawney to predict whose hands he was to die by. So it was either another boring year of History of Magic from Professor Binns, or Muggle Studies. He did grow up as a muggle, granted, he was treated lousy, but as a muggle nonetheless. It would be any easy grade. Yes. He was going to take muggle studies.

He checked the last box and sighed, somewhat content on his decision.

Ron leaned forward, checking Harry's latest choice, "good choice, mate. Can't be too hard for you, growing up as a muggle and all."

At Ron's words, Hermione too peered over the table to Harry's choices, "Harry, what about History of Magic? It's a very important class--"

"Maybe Harry prefers to not sit around listening to a ghost with a nasally sounding voice, and who speaks an average of ten words a minute discussing the Battle of Hastings," Ron countered, not even giving Hermione a chance to finish her sentence.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "Well _maybe_ Professor Binns talks slow so _certain_ people can keep up with what he is saying."

"Yeah, like you! He talks slow for you, so you can copy every bloody word that leaves his mouth!"

Hermione scowled at Ron, before standing with her own class choices grasped firmly in her hand, "well if you are done, Harry, would you mind if Hedwig sends my letter with yours?"

Harry shook his head. "No, that's fine. She's in her cage. I'll be up in a minute." He did _not_ want to get in between another one of their petty arguments. Sometimes he didn't understand how they could possibly be friends.

With a rather loud 'humph' Hermione turned on her heal and marched up the several stories of stairs towards Harry and Ron's room.

Ron smirked, proud of his accomplishment, he rarely won an argument with Hermione Granger. "History of Magic? You'd have to be mental to take that class willingly, Harry."

"Yeah, I suppose," mumbled Harry. But maybe he should take History of Magic, after all, look who he was: The 'boy who lived'. What good would muggle studies do? _Merlin, I think some of Hermione's reasonable conscious is starting to rub off on me. What's next? Deciding I should start studying for N.E.W.Ts? _Suddenly Harry jumped from his seat, causing the two youngest Weasleys' to jump with him. "I'm going to send my letter off."

Later in the early evening, Harry found himself hiding out in Buckbeak's room, formerly Mrs. Black's.

He had just come back from speaking with Professor Dumbledore. The house was his. Kreacher was his. A third of the galleons in Sirius' vault were his (the other two-thirds, inherited respectively by Tonks and Lupin).

He was leaning up against the wall across from Buckbeak; he tossed the hippogriff another dead rat, wishing it were Peter Pettigrew.

Ron and Ginny had traveled by Floo Powder with their mother back to the Burrow, they had to take care of some things and they would be back tomorrow sometime. And after dinner (which consisted of just him, Hermione and Tonks) Hermione had mentioned something about a book and disappeared out of the kitchen.

So Harry was left alone to think. Something he hadn't done much of since the day before when he was still residing with the Dursleys'.

_The Prophecy._

Yeah, he had accepted it.

But that didn't make it any easier.

_He_, Harry James Potter, was the only one that could choose his fate. Not Voldemort, Not Professor Dumbledore, only him. He _had _to beat Voldemort, not just for his own life, but also for hundreds of wizards, witches and muggles.

He had started to make a mental list of things he needed to do to prepare for his battle, whenever the time came. He needed to study _everything, _he knew there was a library someplace in the Black estate, but he hadn't really taken the time to explore. He needed to continue his boxing, he needed another wand, he needed training, and most of all; he needed his friends.

Harry turned his wrist over, checking his watch, having forgot it no longer ticked the time by. "It's probably late, I should probably get to bed, and tomorrow's a big day." Harry found himself constantly talking to Buckbeak, even though he knew he wouldn't receive any words in return.

Professor Dumbledore had personally handed him his Hogwarts letter (Harry didn't even bother to ask how he had received it so fast), and praised him for his wise choice of classes. So he was sure the rest would get theirs tomorrow morning and they would then make their annual before start of term, trip to Diagon Alley.

Harry hadn't even realized, somewhere in the middle of his thoughts he had left Buckbeak's room, and instead of heading to his own, he was now standing outside of Hermione's.

Maybe he should tell her, now.

"Harry?"

Hearing her soft voice, he snapped from his thoughts, and focused his gaze upon her. She was standing behind him, having just come back from someplace else. "I need to talk to you."

No beating around the bush.

She raised a brow, "err—um, ok."

Harry silently followed Hermione into her room, he turned, once he was positive the door was shut and locked (as best it could be, without using magic). His eyes followed Hermione as she took a seat on the edge of her bed. She maneuvered her legs into Indian style, and with her chin placed into the palms of her hands, she rested her elbows to her knees.

Harry recognized that position. She always sat like that when she was ready and waiting to listen to him.

"I have to kill Voldemort."

She didn't flinch; she never flinched at the Dark Lord's name.

"Harry, I know you're hurting. And I know you want revenge, but don't be ridiculous, let the members of the Order take care of him."

She didn't get it.

Ok, time for a different approach.

Sighing, he let his body plop softly next to her, "the prophecy, Hermione."

She nodded, "the prophecy at the department of mysteries? It was ruined, Harry. You said Neville broke it, so nobody knows what it held."

Taking a breath and steadying his voice, Harry repeated the words Dumbledore spoke to him: **_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will make him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."_**

Harry sat silent; his eyes could burn a hole in the floor below his feet, refusing to look up at Hermione.

Then it clicked.

She gasped.

A sob escaped from her lips.

"Oh, Harry!" she threw her body at him, almost knocking him to the floor, "Harry! Why does—why?" her voice cracked and her emotions took over, the sobs racked through her body.

Harry did the only thing he knew to do. He wrapped his arms around her midsection, holding her tight against his own body, letting her cry in his arms. He found his own tears streaming down his cheeks and silently berated himself, he didn't want to cry anymore, he had cried enough.

"Hermione, don't cry…it'll be ok." How could he convince her when he hadn't even completely convinced himself? He was never good when it came to girls crying.

She pulled away, furiously wiping at her tears, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and emotion. "You don't know that, Harry!"

"Yes, I do, Hermione!" She flinched, and he cringed, not meaning to raise his voice, "it says, 'the power the dark lord knows not'. I have an advantage Hermione, I've got love!"

Since when was Harry the calm and reasonable one, and Hermione was the one freaking out?

Hermione, nodded somberly, her eyes were wandering off in a daze, "from your mum?"

"Yeah."

Gaining some of her demeanor back and sat up straighter, "If love is what you need to defeat Voldemort, then you're sure to get the job done. Harry, so many people love you, Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid, Professor Lupin, your Aunt and cousin, the order, the Weasleys'…me."

Hermione's words sent shivers down his spine, "from you?" the words were out before he could stop them.

"Yeah, you know, we've been best friends for nearly six years, I'm not going to just leave you alone, in times like these." Her face resembled the Weasleys' trademark hair.

Get with it Potter! She meant it as a friend! "Thanks, Hermione."

She nodded, and broke eye contact, "you'd better get to bed, we've got lots to do tomorrow, we should look through the library, I've been rearranging it quite a bit. I hope you don't mind."

"You know where the library is?"

Hermione laughed, causing Harry's boyish grin to show, "are you really that surprised, Harry? Now come on, go to bed!"

"Yes ma'am!" it was becoming a normal reply for him whenever Hermione told him to do something. He'd never really had someone to tell him to do something simple that was in his best interest, such as, 'go to bed'.

He opened the door, and stopped before leaving. "Hermione?" he turned, once again facing her.

"Hmmm?"

"Are you---you ok?"

Hermione knew what he was talking about. She nodded, giving him a reassuring smile, "I'm fine. I stopped taking my healing potions nearly two weeks ago."

Harry nodded, "that's good."

The next day found the trio alone on the second floor in the room shared by Ron and Harry. Hermione was sprawled out comfortably on Harry's bed, her mind indulged in one of Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts books he received for his birthday. She was furiously taking notes and had already gone through several pieces of parchment.

Harry hadn't really gotten to speak to Hermione alone, Ron and Ginny had arrived before he even woke this morning.

Harry and Ron were going over chocolate frog cards, trading with each other. Harry had filled Ron in on every little detail of his summer, and the best part for Ron seemed to be the binder Dudley had given Harry for his chocolate frog cards (they had already finished reading 107 hexes, Hermione of course disapproved of such a thing).

"Cecil Sullivan?" asked Ron, waving the card in front of Harry.

Harry shook his head, "got him too. You know, Ron, I could just give you Basil Horton."

"No! I mean...it has to be a fair trade." He continued on through his box of cards, "how about…"

"Montague Knightley." Harry pointed out several cards with Montague's face plastered on the front. "I don't have him."

"Why didn't you say so, mate! I have at least ten of him," said Ron, handing Harry the chocolate frog card in trade for Basil Horton's card. He watched as Harry slid Knightley's card into an empty sleeve. "Too bad we can't bewitch it. It'd be nice if there were alphabetical labels telling you who you still needed."

"Yeah, that'd be cool," agreed Harry.

"Oh, and nobody could take out the cards except for the owner of the binder! Blimey, that'd be even better! I'm always getting mine stolen."

"Well maybe you shouldn't be such a prat and brag about the cards you have." Unbeknownst to the three, Ginny had opened the door and was leaning against the frame, "mum wants you three downstairs. Hogwarts letters just arrived, and we're going to Diagon Alley."

Hermione jumped from her spot following close behind Ginny, "It's about time! I'm dying to get my books, I'm already behind on my study schedule." Harry just laughed, but Ron on the other hand looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Hermione, we sent our class choices out yesterday, and how can you be studying when school hasn't even started yet?" exclaimed Ron, making his own way out of the room.

Harry sighed and grabbed his letter from the nightstand next to his bed. Was it possible for those two to go one day, just _one_, without getting into an argument?

"Harry dear, can I have word with you for a moment?" Harry had just placed both feet firmly on the leveled floor when Mrs. Weasley spoke. Harry shrugged his shoulders at a questionable Ron and Hermione, before he followed Molly Weasley. She stopped, once she was sure they were out of extendable-ear shot.

Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry with the same look of love she gave her own children, "how are you, dear?"

Harry loved Molly Weasley dearly, truth be told, she was the closest thing he had to a mother. But he honestly hated when she looked at him like that, he wasn't good enough to earn a look of love from her, not after nearly killing her two youngest children. "I'm ok…and I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

Tears glistened in his emerald gaze, "for everything…last year and all."

"Oh, Harry!" she engulfed him in a hug, her own tears threatening to spill, "you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for!" she pulled back, giving the boy a smile, "it's not your fault, if anything I'm thankful Ginny and Ron are around somebody like you. Yeah, maybe they are put in a little more danger, but with Arthur and I choosing sides with Albus, they were already put in danger. There's a war going on, Harry, everybody's in danger."

Harry, to say the least was surprised at Mrs. Weasley's words. In the past, she wasn't exactly known for her brave and understanding words, she always spoke the complete opposite: fear and anger for Harry, Hermione and her two youngest on the choices they made. "Then what about the Order?"

"They're too young, you're too young! It's one thing to run off and defeat a troll, it's another to join the main source of resistance against you-know-who!" she snapped in a harsh whisper.

_That_ was the Molly Weasley, Harry knew.

Harry made a decision: Mrs. Weasley had to know, as did Ron. But now wasn't the time, he would have to talk to Professor Dumbledore before the order meeting tomorrow evening.

Instead, he just nodded at her words before turning and heading back to the group that had gathered around the fireplace.

Once the four Hogwarts students and Mrs. Weasley were standing safely in front of Gringotts bank, four Order members quickly joined them.

"Oi, Charlie…Bill, what are you two doing here?" Ron yelled out.

The oldest Weasley children were accompanied by Moody, and the ever noticeable, Rubeus Hagrid.

"You didn't think we were just going to let you go out in a public place in times like these, did you?" Charlie replied.

"Harry, how are ye?" said, Hagrid, patting him heavily on the back, "ye like yer gift?"

Harry's trademark crooked smile shown, "yeah, I'm definitely going to use them for Quidditch." (A letter from Professor McGonagall informed Harry that he was once again aloud to play Quidditch, although apparently his broom had been destroyed and he would need to buy another one).

"Where to first?" Charlie asked.

"I uh…I need to get some galleons." Harry hated mentioning money with the Weasleys'.

"I'll come too, Harry." Hermione spoke, coming into view from behind Hagrid where she was standing next to Ginny. "I need to exchange some muggle money."

Moody nodded, he looked at the two with his one eye, while his magical one continued to skim the crowd full of hustling and bustling witches and wizards. "I'll go with you two."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, "well we'll meet you at Flourish and Blotts when you're done. Ginny, Ron, come along, now." Somberly, Ron followed close behind Ginny and his two oldest brothers.

Harry turned to Hagrid, "where will you be?"

"Gotta get me some stuff fer lessons." He said rather excitedly.

Harry didn't even bother to ask, not sure if he really wanted to know ahead of time.

Once making the short trip to Gringotts, Moody insisted they go straight to Griphook and no other goblin. Harry had remembered Griphook from his first trip to the Wizard bank six years prior.

They made a quick stop at vault number 687 where Harry found his share of Sirius' vault had been added to his already thousands of galleons. He quickly refilled his moneybag and they went on to exchange Hermione's muggle money.

Within ten minutes the three were entering the bookshop.

Hermione's excitement boldly radiated off of her and Harry couldn't help but smile at his friend's enthusiasm. "There are so many books I want to get." She said, making her way through the crowd of Hogwarts students and towards the back.

Harry followed and soon found himself in the familiar position of being watched by several pairs of eyes.

"Harry!" Neville rushed up to Harry, nearly out of breath.

Harry felt a genuine smile invade his features; sometimes he felt he had more in common with Neville than he did with Ron. "Hey, Neville."

"I just wanted to say thanks for the book, I've read it at least a dozen times."

"I thought you might like it. Thanks for the wand holder, it'll be nice knowing I don't have to worry about someone pick pocketing it."

"Yeah, I thought that too. So uh…" he took a quick glance around, lowering his voice, "did you get a letter too? You know, for tomorrow?"

Harry's eyes widened, and he too looked around at his surroundings, "you got one?"

"Yeah. I figured for sure that you got one. Hermione, too?"

"Yeah, we both did, but Ron…"

"Hey Ron!" Neville said loudly, warning Harry of the Weasley's path towards them, "How was your summer?"

"It was good, yours?" Ron's arms were buried under a huge stack of schoolbooks.

"Excellent! My Gran bought me a new wand." He gave Harry knowing look, "well uh…see you guys soon. I should really head back to the leaky cauldron."

Harry watched as Neville disappeared through the thick crowd. Neville was invited to join the order?

Ron really wasn't going to be too pleased.

"What were you two talking about?" Ron asked.

"Oh, umm, Chocolate frog cards," lied Harry.

After the group got their books needed for school, Molly performed the shrinking charm on each bundle, making it easy to carry.

"I've got to take Ginny to the second hand robe shop." Said Mrs. Weasley once they were all out of the book shop, "I suppose you three have places you would like to go?" The three nodded, "I want each of you to have somebody with you at all times. Alastar, you stay with Harry, Bill with Ron and Charlie with Hermione. We will all meet up at the Leaky Cauldron at one."

After Mrs. Weasley left with an angered Ginny, Hermione spoke, "I need to run into the stationary shop and pick some things up and go onto the Apothecary, Harry I'll pick up your potion ingredients. I think we should meet up at the ice cream parlor in an hour."

Ron nodded, "sounds good to me, I'm off to Quality Quidditch Supplies. How about it, Harry?"

"I need to make a few other stops first."

Reluctantly, Ron nodded at his friend, "if you insist mate, meet me at Fred and George's shop, we can go to Quality Quidditch supplies together."

Harry nodded and watched as Ron threw himself into the crowd with Bill close behind. Hermione and Charlie had already wandered off. Harry turned and smiled at Moody who was looking at him suspiciously with his normal eye, "can we make a quick stop at Ollivander's?"

After Harry bought his second wand (with much praise from Moody), the two moved on across the street to Wells' Wonders. Harry had never stepped foot in the store before but had heard plenty about it. Alden Wells, a muggle born wizard, opened the shop nearly fifty years ago. He pretty much made and built anything, getting his inspiration from muggle artifacts.

Harry knew this would be the perfect place.

Twenty minutes later Harry walked out of the shop (Moody following close behind) with a satisfied smile plastered on his face. "I think it's time we go to Fred and George's shop, Professor."

"I was never your professor, Potter. Just call me Moody."

Harry nodded; the auror had a point, "Ok then, Moody it is."

Fred and George ushered Harry into Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes as if he were royalty. Giving him the grand tour and shoving odd products into every pocket of his robes.

"Only the best for the best, am I right, Feorge?" Fred handed Harry a rather tiny box.

"Ah yes, Gred. The Bubbling Box is an extremely wise choice, one drop is enough to spike every cup on the whole Slytherin table twice." Returned George.

"Produces a rather foul smell."

"I'm sure Malfoy's used to his own smell by now." Added George.

"Harry, we gotta get going, Hermione will go mental if we're late." Ron came up behind him, his arms full of assorted skiving snackboxes.

Harry nodded, "you're probably right. Thanks again for the samples."

"We should be the one thanking you." Fred replied. "We'll be looking forward to reading that book of yours, send it soon."

"Will do. See ya!"

Ron and Harry left the crowded confines of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and made their way to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. They found Hermione sitting alone at an outside table (Charlie was sitting at a table next to her, motioning for Bill and Moody who had been following Ron and Harry to join him), as always, her nose was in a book. Sensing the two boys, she looked up, "hey guys!" she seemed rather pleased with herself.

"Hey, Hermione." Greeted Harry, taking a seat next to her, "what are you reading?"

"I'll tell you later, right now I have to give you your birthday present."

"A little late, aren't you, Hermione?" said Ron, taking a seat, although his eyes were fixated on the half eaten sundae, "you done with that?" Hermione gave him a disgusted look, which Ron took as a yes and pulled the bowl towards him.

Harry looked around Hermione's belongings, "where's it at?"

"It's not here."

"But you just said…"

Hermione rolled her eyes; "it's waiting for you at Quality Quidditch Supplies."

Her words made Ron even stop eating. "Bloody hell! You got him a Firebolt 190!"

She shrugged her shoulders, "Harry will just have to go in and find out."

* * *

The words in Italic and bold are word from word as it is stated in the book. 


End file.
